


The Cost Of Progress

by TheTimelessChild0



Series: Omovember 2020 [21]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Omovember 2020, Omovember 21, Season 1, Urination, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Series: Omovember 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987816
Kudos: 3





	The Cost Of Progress

Dinners at the Grantham residence has become a nice tradition for the extended Crawley family. It was making having his suits tailored considerably more bearable. But this particular night would not be so simple. 

See, Matthew had chosen a new tailor for his suits. He was uncomfortable with his clothes arriving along with his mother’s. Now, this particular tailor worked with modern styles and modern stitches. They were veritably invisible. One thing that was  _ not _ invisible, however, was the new zip. Instead of the pulley with the teeth, it was a latch, like you’d have on a farmhouse. You slid the flat part out of its “holster”, so to speak.

It was new but not overly complicated. So he saw no issue with wearing these trousers to dinner.

* * *

The meal progressed as always with laughter, political discussion until his aunt Violet started complaining about the “refinement”.

During a particularly boisterous laugh, his cousin, the owner of the house spilt his champagne on the city mouse.

“Oh goodness me, I’m so sorry,” Robert rigorously apologised.

“No harm done, it dries off,” he assured his relative.

He finished his meal and a few more glasses of champagne. Which, as it happens, did not want to stay inside of him. 

The peripheral Crawley stood, moving his silverware to indicate that he was finished. 

  
“If you’ll excuse me, nature’s telegram has just arrived,” he announced, smiling politely.

“Go on, more room for dessert,” Lord Grantham chuckled, to the irritation of his oldest daughter. 

He turned right across from the library, entering the water closet quietly. He lifted the seat and his suit jacket for access to his clasp. Then he tugged. And tugged. The two sections wouldn’t separate.

“Oh, come on,” he pushed harder, squeezing his thighs together. Upon further inspection, Matthew noticed specks of rust on both sides of the mechanism.  _ Wonderful _ . Simply wonderful

* * *

“What on earth is taking Matthew so long?” Mary stated impatiently.

“He could be doing more than anticipated,” Violet suggested.

“Strangely, I find myself doubting that. I’ll go check what the delay is about,” Robert rose and departed from the dining room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He found the door with unmistakable rustling behind it. He knocked on the door.

“Are you passing an ocean? Or perhaps a whale?” he quipped to the occupant.

Matthew held his laughter considering his predicament. And opened the door.

“No, just suffering some slight...technical difficulties,” 

“Whatever do you mean?” Robert frowned.

He showed the Earl where the clasp had gotten stuck.

“When you spilt your champagne on me, it got rusted shut,” he sighed.

“Oh dear me, I’m so sorry,” Grantham apologised.

“Please, you had no way of knowing this was going to happen,” he forgave.

Robert called for Carson. Matthew blushed.

“Oh, great, now it can all get even  _ more _ humiliating,” he griped.

“More so than having him fetch one of my suit trousers?” the elder hinted.

“Touché,”

* * *

Carson arrived at the scene.

“You required my assistance my lord?” he greeted.

“Actually no, that would be the other gentleman of the evening,” Robert indicated his guest.

“Do you have any tools that can cut through metal?” he explained awkwardly, bobbing in place.

Recognition showed in the butler. He waved a hand and stormed off; something he did rarely.

He returned with the equipment and a magnifying glass. Scrutinising the issue, he uttered “oh dear,”

“My sentiments exactly. Can you cut it or not?!” Matthew covered his hand as he was forced to  _ hold _ on, lest there be disaster.

“ _ Permanently... _ yes,” he cautioned.

“Well, my dignity will be permanently deteriorated in 30 seconds, so we might as well get on with the bloody thing,” the Crawley heir spat. “pardon the french,” he added hurriedly.

“Bring it closer,” Carson introduced quietly. One snap later, and the floor was decorated only with a sprinkling of metal. 

“As you were, sir,” the knight in shining armour bid adieu.

“Take your time...there’s no hurry,” Robert assured him. Matthew presently had his legs crossed, and was leaning on the sink. He raised a finger with an amendment.

“Or perhaps a little pep is in order,” his Lordship muttered under his breath, smirking.

* * *

Matthew tucked his jacket all the way down; not nearly enough to cover a potential  _ patch _ , only to draw attention away from the discoloured bits around the edges of his silky slacks. The fly consisted now of two pieces of tape. More than tight enough with the belt, but fairly conspicuous all the same.

“I hope you weren’t trying to flush out all the wine in one go? That’s medically impossible, right auntie?” Sybil questioned, directing her doubt at her “aunt”, Isobel.

  
“Certainly, if you’ve had enough of it. Besides, it’s not just wine inside of you, your kidneys rain buckets on top of that,” Madam Crawley smiled.

“Can we leave the toilet humour for later, do you think? I, for one, would like to get through dessert without disgracing myself,” Robert requested in jest.

“I think Matthew has set the record already. He’s wearing trousers with no opening,” the Dowager noted, aghast.

“I can assure you it does open,” Matthew corrected.

“Huh, then I shall dread to find out how,” she quipped.

Robert was right. _This_ was the most humiliating moment of his life.

The End.


End file.
